


Tolerate Me, That's All I Ask Of You

by darthrevaan (Burning_Nightingale)



Series: Send Me A Ship AU Fics [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Opera, F/M, Miscommunication, Operas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:13:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3831688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/darthrevaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra and Shar aren't exactly Christine and Raoul or Marius and Cosette - in fact, they'll be lucky if they can get through opening night...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tolerate Me, That's All I Ask Of You

**Author's Note:**

> Just in the interest of full disclosure - I don't have much idea of what actually goes on behind the scenes at a theatre/opera house. I tried to make it as accurate as possible to the little experience I have.
> 
> Title is a play on the last line of 'All I Ask Of You' from Phantom. Hopefully that's sort of obvious. 
> 
> I didn't decide what opera they're supposed to be performing - you can imagine whatever you like.
> 
> Also, Ezra is supposed to be aged-up as well as genderbent in this AU, so imagine her about twenty two years old.
> 
> Written for my ask AU meme, for the co-stars AU prompt.

The Lothal Opera House wasn't much to look at from the outside, not compared to venues Shar had visited in the past. He had played the Galaxies Opera House on Coruscant, for star’s sake. He had been understudy to Romelo Garcia, perhaps the most famous tenor in the galaxy, and when Romelo had contracted Thrylassian throat nodes the day before the show Shar had had to fill in for him on opening night, in front of the Chancellor _himself_.

That performance had made his career, launched him into stardom. He'd performed all over the Core, from Coruscant to Alderaan to Kuat and more.

And now he was expected to perform that same magic _here._

“It's part of the Senate’s new outreach program,” his manager had explained. “Show the Outer Rim that the politicians on Coruscant care about them, too.”

“If the politicians cared about the Outer Rim they'd break up the slave rings and shut down the Hutt syndicates,” Shar had pointed out drily, but his distaste for the task hadn't saved him being forcibly recruited.

“I could be playing the Aldera Royal Opera House right now,” Shar said, standing on the steps and looking up at the weathered stone façade of the building. To give it its due, it was one of the most imposing, impressive buildings in the city, but that still wasn't saying much.

Maketh, his manager, was also eyeing the building with disdain. “We only have to do a month’s run,” she said, with the air of steeling herself for the worst.

“Queen Breha loves the opera. We could have met her,” Shar grumbled.

“Well, this wasn't my bright idea,” Maketh said sharply. Then she sighed. “Let's just get this over with.”

They made their way up the steps and through the front doors. A wide, red-carpeted and slightly shabby entrance hall greeted them. “At least they have nice curtains,” Maketh said dubiously.

A young man with an odd beard was waiting for them. “Mr Blom,” he exclaimed, “Good to meet you.”

“The honour is mine,” Shar said, trying and probably failing to keep the flat sarcasm out of his voice.

The man didn't seem to notice. “I'm Kallus, the owner’s representative,” he said. “You must be Miss Tua, yes, the manager?”

“Nice to meet you,” Maketh said, managing to inject some enthusiasm into her voice as they shook hands.

“I'll show you to your dressing room.”

Everything had a distinctly shabby air, but all the necessary components seemed to be in evidence. Dressing rooms, costume stores, a lighting system in reasonably good repair, a props store, a seamstress’ cupboard. People leaned out of dressing rooms to get a look at him, but Kallus batted them casually away if any came too close. “They're all desperate to meet you, of course,” he said. “But you must socialise as and when you feel comfortable. Don’t let them pressure you.”

At the end of a long corridor, Kallus unlocked a door and palmed it open invitingly. “The key,” he said, presenting it to Shar. “The only other key that can open this door is the master, which I hold safely on my person at all times. You won't be disturbed.”

“Thank you,” Shar said, hoping the man picked up on his dismissive tone.

Kallus was obviously no idiot; Shar and Maketh entered the room alone. “Well, at least it's not all doom and gloom,” Maketh said cheerily as she shut the door.

Shar raised an eye ridge. “How so?”

“Didn't you think he was cute?”

Shar gave her a look. “No.”

“Well.” Maketh shifted uncomfortably. “I'll go and meet the company. Rehearsal starts in fifty minutes.”  

/

When rehearsal time arrived, Shar reluctantly left the sanctuary of his dressing room. The company had gathered together on the stage, with a tall confident-looking Togruta woman standing in front of them. She smiled when Shar came into view. “Mr Blom,” she said, shaking his hand firmly. “I’m Ahsoka Tano, the theatre director. It's nice to have you with us.”

Shar could tell instantly that this was a woman who wasn't the least bit overawed by his stardom, and wouldn't take any nonsense from her company. “Nice to meet you, director,” he said politely.

Ahsoka clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention, though it wasn't really necessary; everyone was looking at him anyway. “Everyone, you all know who this is,” she said. “Mr Blom, let me introduce the company. Kanan and Zeb here are in charge of our lighting and props.” She indicated an impassive human man and his mulish Lasat companion. “Hera is our seamstress, in charge of costumes.” A pretty green Twi’lek woman gave him a wave.

A slew of other names followed, all of which Shar tried diligently to memorise. He had no intention of making friends, but he was a professional, and knowing names was the first step to working with people.

“And this is our new soprano, and your co-star, Ezra Bridger,” Ahsoka finished.

Ezra was a young woman with blue-tinted hair, who was giving him a rather unfriendly stare. Shar kept his own face impassive. “Nice to meet you.”

She just nodded.

“Everyone should have their scripts,” Ahsoka said, smoothing over the rough moment, “Let’s start at the beginning and see how far we get.”

Shar pulled his script out with a rush of relief. This was something he was familiar with, and he'd performed this opera several times. This was something he could _do._

/

Shar couldn't work out why his new co-star was so dead set against him. Ahsoka was a good director, but even she couldn't force Ezra to act. Ezra seemed to begrudge every word she sang.

Shar was sure the props director, Kanan, didn't like him either, and neither did his friend Zeb the lighting director – but whether Zeb liked anyone other than Kanan and Hera seemed to be a matter worth debate. The seamstress he saw little of in the first few days, but it became clear to him in the few moments he saw them interact that something was going on between her and the props director.

“Kanan and Hera, are they…?” he asked Ahsoka on the fourth morning.

“You catch on fast,” Ahsoka said with a grin. “We’re just waiting for him to pop the question.”

Shar didn't quite feel comfortable asking why Ezra and Kanan didn't like him. As far as he was concerned, he would do his part and if they didn't want to do theirs, that was their problem.

Rehearsals wore on, and even cool, calm Ahsoka eventually lost her temper with Ezra’s lacklustre performance. Shar heard her yelling through the door of her office when she took Ezra aside to ‘have a chat’.

 _If her performance is this bad it’ll reflect badly on me,_ Shar thought when they were getting too close to opening night for comfort. Several times he considered going to talk to her and then convinced himself not to. _She’ll get over it._

But a week out, with tempers fraying and Ahsoka obviously at her wit’s end, Shar decided action needed to be taken.

He decided to get some advice from Ahsoka first. She was the only one who ever talked straight with him – aside from Hera, though he didn't see much of her – and even after working with Ezra for several weeks, he still knew barely anything about her. Some context and background would be good before he went charging in.

He knocked on Ahsoka’s office door after rehearsals, when most people had already gone home. There was no answer; she might have already gone, but he doubted it. He tried the door controls, and they sprung open easily at his touch.

“Like you would know, Skyguy,” he heard Ahsoka say, sounding derisive and affectionate at the same time. She jumped and turned when the door opened.

Shar took in the situation at a glance; Ahsoka was sitting at a small dressing table, a holoprojector open on the glass tabletop. The projected image was of a human man who was probably around thirty to thirty five, who cocked his head curiously, looking at Ahsoka. “What's wrong, Snips?” he asked. Obviously Shar was out of the holoprojector’s pickup range.

“I'm sorry to disturb,” Shar said, already backing out. “I should have knocked.”

“It's fine,” Ahsoka said, reaching out a hand to stop him. “I'll call you back, Anakin.” The projected figure shrugged, and Ahsoka cut the holo image. “Old friend of mine,” she explained. “What's up?”

Shar waved the door closed. “You can't have failed to notice that I haven't made a good impression on my co-star,” he said.

Ahsoka put a hand to her forehead. “Believe me, Ezra is all I think about right now. I can't work out what's wrong with her. Usually she's great, big talent, cheerful, really enthusiastic. Now…I don't know.”

“I was wondering if it would help if I talked to her.”

Ahsoka looked at him shrewdly. “I don't know,” she said slowly. “Anything might help at this point.”

Shar nodded. “What's her background?”

“Bit of a rags to riches story. Orphaned at a young age, lived on the streets for a bit, then Hera took her in. Hera got the job as seamstress here, then the owner heard Ezra sing one evening…the rest is history, as they say.”

“Hmm.” Shar was forming ideas in his head, but he didn't know if they were correct. Only a confrontation with Ezra would prove them. “Well, thank you. I'll see if I can catch her before she leaves.”

“If Hera’s still here, she will be. They go home together.”

When Shar exited Ahsoka’s office, he could hear Hera’s voice. He couldn't quite make out the words, but she sounded happy. A moment later Kanan’s voice said something in reply; he sounded slightly sheepish. From the direction, Shar surmised that they were standing down the hall, either in the props cupboard or just outside it. That meant Hera wasn't on her way out. He turned and walked in the opposite direction, down the corridor towards Ezra’s dressing room.

When he knocked on the door, it took a few moments for it to be answered. The girl who opened the door wasn't Ezra, but another young human woman with brightly coloured hair. She looked him up and down suspiciously. “Can I help you?”

“We haven't been introduced,” Shar said, looking her up and down as well. “I'm Shar Blom. I was wondering if I could speak to Miss Bridger.”

The young woman looked sceptical. “I'm Sabine, Ezra’s sister. I'll see if she wants to talk to you.”

“Tell her it's important,” Shar said before Sabine closed the door.

He waited in the corridor for a few minutes before the door was opened again, this time by Ezra. She didn't look happy. “Yes?” she asked.

“I was wondering if we could speak.” He looked over her shoulder to where Sabine was glowering at him. “Privately.”

Ezra looked round at Sabine; the other girl shrugged and said, “I’ll go see if Hera and Kanan are ready to go.”

When she was gone, Ezra motioned him inside with a jerk of her head. When she'd shut the door he said, “I feel I must offer you an apology, if I've wronged you in some way.”

That obviously took Ezra by surprise. “You haven't done anything to me,” she said, and then winced as if she hadn't meant to say that.

“Then I find myself at a loss to discern a reason for your behaviour towards me,” Shar said, his voice slightly reproving.

Ezra scowled. “I just don't like you.”

“I can live with that. What I cannot abide is your prejudice against me affecting your part in this performance.”

Ezra looked away; she looked guilty. “I just can't…get over it,” she said quietly.

“What is your objection to me?” Shar asked, genuinely interested.

Ezra resumed scowling at him; she had a real fire in her eyes, he noticed. “I know what you think of us,” she spat, “You think we’re Outer Rim hicks, nobodies who aren't good enough for you.”

“Maybe I did think that at the beginning,” Shar said, “Some of you have proved me wrong. However some of you,” he looked pointedly at her, “have not.”

Ezra bristled. “We’re never going to prove you wrong, no matter what you say. You’re never-”

“Your objection to me is that I assume things about you, yes?” Shar interrupted. “Can you not see that, in not liking me on principle, you are in fact guilty of doing the very same thing? In assuming that I look down on you, you, in fact, give me reason to.”

Ezra looked scandalized. “What- I-”

“We don’t have to be friends,” Shar continued in a softer tone, “but we should at least get to know one another before we judge each other.”

Ezra opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it and regarded him, warily thoughtful. At length she said, “Fine. I take your point. I guess we should…get to know each other.”

“Wonderful. Dinner then, seven o’clock at Barnudo’s.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Nothing better than deep conversation over dinner.”  He looked her up and down. “I’ll pick you up at half six. The dress code is smart.”

“I didn’t say yes!” Ezra protested as he walked toward the door.

“It’s my treat,” Shar said, palming the door open.

In the corridor he almost walked into Hera, who looked surprised to see him come out of Ezra’s dressing room. “Fine,” Ezra’s voice said from behind, “Tomorrow?”

“Indeed,” Shar agreed, nodding politely to a confused Hera, before making his way off down the corridor.

She was an interesting one, that Ezra – she’d been bratty, yes, but she’d also recognised that she was in the wrong when he pointed it out. All hope for their working relationship was not lost, Shar thought with satisfaction.

And in fact, he was quite looking forward to getting to know more about her.

 


End file.
